The Origin of the Ice Queen
by Olivier Mira
Summary: How Olivier became the Ice Queen and the Northern Wall of Briggs. Beginning with her first day of military training, and ending with her first appearance in Brotherhood. Rated for mild violence.
1. Chapter 1-- Day 1

The commanding officer moved down the line, calling out names in no apparent order as he passed the ranks of new recruits.

"Buccaneer!"

"Sir!" The giant man replied, saluting. The others around him flinched slightly as he moved. Even the CO seemed a little jumpy, but he continued calling out names until he reached the end of the line.

"Armstrong, Oliver!"

Silence.

"Armstrong, Oliver!"

"It's Olivier, sir," said a smooth voice to his right.

The man looked up from his roster, a sharp reprimand already on his lips. But it died as soon as he looked into the coldest eyes he had ever seen. "Y-you're a girl."

Olivier kept her hand to her head in a salute, more out of self-restraint than respect, as she stared straight back at the man. "Women have been able to join the Amestrian army for several decades, sir." She was surprised to see that he did not miss the insulting tone in her voice. The man had appeared to have a head of lead. It was no wonder he wasn't able to rise beyond Major rank.

"Well, we'll see how long you last," he scoffed, and moved to the center of the troop. "Listen up princesses. I don't know why you're here, and I don't care. All I know is that by the end of this week, half of you will be back in your homes or dead. If you'd like, you can make the choice right now."

He fell silent to see if anyone would step out of line. It wouldn't be the first time. He could see the recruits looking at the woman from the corner of their eye. No one was going to quit before a girl.

"Very well. Your training starts now!" Several lance corporals appeared with various weapons. The Major continued speaking as they set up. "Each of you will be paired with one of your fellow recruits. You do not get to choose your weapon, you will be assigned one. Each fight will end when one of the sparring partners cannot continue or after three minutes. Killing your partner is discouraged, but not disallowed."

The men began to shift uncomfortably, all except Buccaneer who grinned, and the woman who remained as stoic as ever.

"You had your chance to run, princesses. This is the price you pay. Now, listen up! Miles, you're with Neil. Gregor, with Archer. Douglas, with Fessler. Armstrong, with Buccaneer."

The list didn't stop there, but Olivier no longer felt the need to listen. She didn't give her opponent the honor of looking at him as she walked over to the lance corporals to collect her weapon. They handed her two small knives.

_Kunai, _she thought. _I didn't expect the military to train with Xingese weapons._

"What is this?!" came the booming voice of the bear-man to her right. She glanced over to see him holding two saws, like you might find at a carpenter's shop. "What the hell am I supposed to do with these?"

"I'm sure you'll find a use for them," the lance corporal said, not amused. "You're in ring number five. The bouts will begin in two minutes."

Olivier rolled her eyes and made her way to the fifth ring, which was nothing more than a circle carved into the dirt of the courtyard. She moved at a measured pace, weighing the pros and cons of the battle in her mind. He was significantly larger than she was, and his weapons had a greater reach. But hers could be thrown, and she was small enough to slip around him. If she threw her knifes then she would be disarmed; but his weapons would only do real damage if managed to catch her long enough to run the serrated blade along her skin; and she didn't intend to let him catch her.

She took up a medium stance at one side of the ring. The kunai felt awkward in her hands. She had never trained with them before, though she had once seen some visiting Xingese warriors demonstrate how they were used.

Buccaneer took his place at the other end of the ring, still glaring at the two saws in his hands. Olivier almost growled when he didn't look at her. She would teach him to underestimate her.

The major took his position in the center of the courtyard. "When the whistle sounds you have three minutes to disable your opponent. If no victor is found within three minutes then the bout will begin again with new weapons until a victor is found. The winners will fight the winners, while the losers go to the infirmary or crying back to their mothers. Take your places."

Olivier bent her knees, ready to move as soon as she heard that whistle. She could tell from his stance that Buccaneer was strongest on his right side, so she would move to the left. He still looked confused about his weapons, so it shouldn't be too hard to get behind him. Whether she would kill him or not when she got there was still up for debate.

Without any countdown, the whistle sounded. The moment Olivier moved, Buccaneer decided that he didn't need to worry about the stupid saws and threw them to the ground. He swung his left fist toward her instead. Olivier tried to move toward the edge of the ring to dodge, but only had time to think, _he's so huge!_ before his fist connected with her head.

She didn't feel herself drop the kunai knives, or fall to the ground. But she did hear Buccaneer's voice just before the darkness claimed her. "Leave fighting to the big boys. It's time to go back to the kitchen, sweetheart."


	2. Chapter 2-- The Infirmary

It was raining on her face. The pillows were soft beneath her. The rain felt… strange. Like tiny paper balls hitting her-

Olivier sat up and caught one of the tiny projectiles as it sailed through the air. This was followed by intense pain racing through her skull and down her spine.

"Wahoo!" yelled the man in the bed across the aisle. "New record! I hit you seventeen times before you woke up."

His shouts brought in a young doctor, a few years older than Olivier herself. "Neil, would you please keep your voice down?" The man came over to Olivier, smiling. "It's good to see you awake. Thought I bet your head is hurting you. Here," he held out two pills and a cup of water.

Olivier glared at him and made no move to take the proffered drugs. "I feel fine," she lied, gritting her teeth.

He stayed where he was until he was sure she wasn't going to take it, then he stepped back. "All right. I just need to ask you a few questions to make sure there isn't any permanent damage. Good?"

More glaring from Olivier.

"Great. First question, what is your full name?"

She weighed the pros and cons of answering him, and decided it would probably be best to play along. "Olivier Mira Armstrong."

"What year is it?"

"Nineteen-hundred."

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

She clenched her teeth harder, which only increased the pounding in her skull. The pain brought her clarity and focus. "Yes."

"Can you tell me?"

When she didn't answer immediately, Neil chimed in. "She got punched in the head by a man of a mountain! She went down even before I did!" He clearly found this hilarious.

"Oh yeah, pretty boy?" Olivier shouted. "And who did you lose to? The Isvhalan twerp? You're all bray and no brawn!"

"All right now, calm down," the doctor said nervously. "Sara!"

A female doctor entered the room, "Yes?"

"Can you please help Mr. Neil move to another room? I don't think the atmosphere here is very… healing."

Sara frowned. "The other rooms are full. They just brought in three new recruits. Luckily I think their twisted training is over, so that should be the last of them. But moving people around just isn't possible right now."

He sighed. "Thank you. We'll make due." He glared at Olivier and Neil, "Won't we?"

Neil gave an over dramatic salute, "Sir, yes, sir!"

Olivier gave a customary glare.

"Urey, would you come help me with something?" Sara asked. "A man has come in with a deep cut on his arm, but it was caused by something serrated and I'm not sure what the best course would be. I could use your advice."

"Of course, I'll be right there." Urey set down the pills and water on Olivier's bedside table. "Just in case you change your mind. And do _not_ share with Neil."

She said nothing as he walked out of the room.

"They're cute, aren't they? Just don't try to put the moves on Urey. I tried that on Sara and, well… let's say it didn't go well. Those two are certainly de-vo-ted," he emphasized each syllable.

He paused, as if expecting her to offer some kind of witty rejoinder. When she didn't he just kept talking. "I guess you're right. Miles certainly isn't as big as old Bucky, but I'll tell you something, the guy is _fast_. I didn't even see him coming before he was all over me. Held him off a little longer than you did, but I think that's mainly because suffocation takes longer to knock you out than a blow to the head."

Again a pause, and again no response. "Did you know there's one recruit here with an automail leg? I almost feel like that's cheating. I mean, do people with automail legs get sore legs from walking too much? Do they get tired? If I kick them in the shins do they feel it? I dunno. Did you ever know someone with automail?" Pause.

"My dad did a lot of metalwork, back when he was alive that is. So I'm familiar with the material, but not the construction. I think I'd like to learn, though. You know, if being a solider doesn't work out. What about you? Have you always wanted to be a solider? It's unusual for a girl-" Olivier glared at him, "er-woman? Anyway, it's unusual for a female to get into officer school. You must be pretty good or pretty connected. Does that mean today was just a fluke, or do you just have friends in- blah!"

Water dripped down his face and onto his chest. Olivier's arm was still outstretched, the glass clenched in her white knuckled fist. Her voice was as cold as ice, "Say anything more and I will force you to eat this glass shard by shard. Is that clear?" The glass creaked under the pressure of her grip.

Neil sat up straight and saluted, "Sir, yes, sir!" He then grinned and flopped back against the pillows. He didn't look startled or scared by her threat. Instead he looked at her like a kid who had just discovered his storybook hero was real.

Olivier leaned back as well, returning the glass to the table and closing her eyes. She told herself that she didn't mind the pounding in her head, but it would be nice if it would stop, for practical purposes. The pounding was slow and even, and it was slowing down her thought processes. Slowing them down so much that… it was probably… most efficient to… sleep.

**NOTES: Has Olivier gained her first ally?! Just as a note, since not a TON is known about the Briggs men, I will probably be making up some details of their lives while trying to stay true to their personalities. I do not know the timeline for when Buccaneer lost his arm, etc. So things like that will come when I tell them to. Muahaha! The power of an author! If you see anything that is strictly AGAINST the canon (not just unmentioned in the canon) please do not hesitate to let me know.**


	3. Chapter 3-- Signs of Respect

"I'd say it's nice to not be eating hospital food anymore, but I think this is the same food." Neil lifted up a spoonful of lumpy potatoes and tipped it back onto his plate while Olivier tried desperately to ignore him. For two days she hadn't been able to shake this guy. He followed her like a lost puppy.

But the truth was, she only acted like it bothered her. Would it have been nice to have quiet once and a while? Yes. But enough threats would shut him up for an hour or so. And he was quite the reservoir of knowledge.

Olivier had considered herself efficient on all things military since her father was a general, but her knowledge lacked any practical applications. She knew all the different ranks and most of the people who held each of the highest positions. She knew what military life was like, she had lived most of her life that way anyway. But what she hadn't expected was what military _people_ would be like.

She was used to being the toughest. The coldest. She liked it that way. Her siblings and servants had respected her, and maybe even feared her. The two went hand in hand, didn't they? But here, nearly everyone was cold, and certainly everyone was tough. It hadn't taken her long to realize that most of the men thought she was pouting, not stoic. She'd have to figure out how to make them fear her, and that's where Neil came in.

She could get anything she wanted out of a person so long as she could read them. And Neil happened to be an expert on nearly all of the new recruits.

Olivier nodded across the room. "There."

She didn't have to explain what she meant. Neil gave his report. "His name is Archer, Frank Archer."

"He won the first day competitions. He beat both Buccaneer and Miles."

Neil nodded. "He's sneaky. Some would say he fights dirty. He's also the one I mentioned before- the one with the automail leg."

Archer laughed at something his tablemate said just then. It was a fake sound. Almost robotic. Olivier narrowed her eyes and looked in the corner where Buccaneer and Miles sat together. The two didn't seem to be friends, but did appear to have a grudging respect for each other. She supposed that was safer than being enemies when you were so evenly matched. If Archer had been able to beat both of them… he was someone to keep an eye on.

Miles looked over at her before she had looked away. They locked eyes. Blue on red. She saw his lip curl—a sneer?—just as the mess hall doors burst open and the Major walked in. All recruits immediately stood and saluted.

"Well look here, it seems like all of our princesses are still here." He walked up and down the rows of tables. He stopped in front of Olivier and Neil, "And some of them appear to have gotten enough beauty sleep to return to the ranks. Are you sure you wouldn't like a nap? You're looking a little… weak."

Olivier's gaze remained fixed straight ahead. Her hand frozen to her head in salute.

He waited a moment for a response, then moved down the line. "Now that we've established the pecking order, your real training begins. You have thirty seconds to get out into the yard. Now _move_!"

Olivier didn't hesitate. Leaving her uneaten food on the table, she followed the procession of marching soldiers out the door. Just as she reached the edge of the last table, she felt something hard hit the back of her knee, forcing her to the ground. She caught herself and looked up just in time to see Frank Archer's head moving through the doorway.

"Need to tie your shoe, princess?" the major asked.

"No sir!" Olivier replied, getting to her feet and continuing on her way out into the yard.

The first thing she noticed was the guns. There must have been dozens of them strewn about the training yard. She tried to identify the make and model of each from the corner of her eye as she stood in her place in line.

"Before you are the six most commonly used weapons in the military. If you intend to make it far in the ranks, you will need to become intimately familiar with each and every one of them.

"Over the next three hours you will be expected to disassemble, assemble, and fire each gun at those targets," he nodded to the far north side of the yard. "You may not stop firing until you hit two shots within the center two rings. After you hit your target, you will move on to the next gun until you have gone through this process with all six of the guns."

He moved out into the yard and pointed out each type of gun. "First, the handgun. Second, the rifle. Then shotgun, then sniper rifle, then submachine gun, then the machine gun." He gestured at the two huge machine guns mounted on tripods and grinned as confusion showed on the faces of some of the recruits.

"That's right, ladies. There's only one. Perhaps your mamas never taught you to count. There are enough handguns for all twenty of you. But there are only fifteen rifles, ten shotguns, five snipers, three submachines, and these two beauties here," he patted one of the giant guns.

"You will not be able to continue your training until each and everyone one of you has successfully completed the machine gun stage. Don't worry. If you don't pass today then you'll have another chance tomorrow. And if you don't try then you can try again the next day. Of course, each time you try you'll have 30 minutes less than you had before. If you at any point feel like you cannot complete this exercise, know that the door is always open," he pointed to the front gate that led out of the complex.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Get to it!"

Olivier didn't need any more prompting. She found a handgun and began taking it apart. She could see the schematics on the backs of her eyelids. She had studied them religiously in her youth. Slide, chamber, firing pin. Each piece slid in and out of place perfectly. She felt as if the rest of the world was moving in slow motion as she-

BANG! BANG!

Her head jerked up as she heard the handgun fire. No, _two_ handguns fire. Both Archer and Miles were standing in front of their targets, firing away.

She cursed herself for getting distracted and put the last piece back into place. She walked briskly over to the spot next to Miles and began shooting. She knew this would be her weakest portion. At home they had almost always focused on hand to hand and wrestling. Compared to her time spent wrestling with Alex, her time spent shooting a gun was almost non-existent. But she knew the principles behind it, and was only a few seconds behind Miles and Archer.

The next two hours passed in a blur. The only thing she was aware of was the cool metal in her hands. Her muscles seemed to react on their own accord, bracing for the recoil of a shot and delicately placing a firing pin back into its position.

It wasn't until she took her place at the target line with her submachine gun that she realized that Miles and Archer were the only ones left in the competition with her. She was nearly deaf at this point as the subs fired around her. All three targets fell to pieces under the heavy fire. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Miles and Archer both turn. But Archer wasn't turning to the machine gun, he was turning to-

"Look out!" Neil called from the safe zone across the yard.

Olivier's eyes widened as she saw Archer aim his machine gun at Miles. She tackled Miles just as the air filled with the sharp "rap-tap-tap" of rapid fire. If she had been prone to dramatics, Olivier would have sworn that she felt the wake of the bullets as they just missed her skin. Archer threw down his gun and ran to the final stage.

Olivier pushed herself up and looked down at Miles, surprised to see him already glaring back at her with his red eyes. Was he angry? Whatever he was, he wasn't hurt. She pushed herself to her feet and started to run to the last gun. A blur of brown and blue passed her as she got a firsthand experience with Miles' speed. He was certainly fast. Not inhuman, but fast. She froze in her tracks as she watched him and Archer begin to disassemble the giant guns.

The major came up next to her. "Looks like today is not your day, princess." His voice was as insulting as always, but it also held a note of respect. "Try again tomorrow."

Her mouth twitched as she realized that that was probably the most encouraging thing she would ever hear him say. And as she walked back toward the other recruits waiting in the safe zone, she saw that he wasn't the only person whose opinion had changed toward Olivier Mira Armstrong.

**Author Notes: This should be the start of the real flow of the story. There will be more fast forwarding from here on out as I get into her building relationships with Miles, Buccaneer, and then some brief cameos from the Mustang guys when they get old enough. Then I'll kick the plot into high gear with some Ishval Civil War stuff and more!**

**PLEASE NOTE: Since Archer is not in the 2009 series, I'm kind of taking some liberties with him. He seemed like the ideal villain since he's well-known from the 2003 series, but he isn't restricted by a Brotherhood/Manga storyline so I can make up whatever I want. Hopefully that doesn't bug people.**


	4. Chapter 4-- Compassion

Olivier completed the gun challenge the next day. And so, to her surprise, did Neil. He hadn't even made it past rifles the day before. When she questioned him he just shrugged and said, "After I saw how they fit together it was easy to do it again. I guess I just have a mind for mechanics."

The gun challenge became a spectator sport, even for those who had already completed it. After three days everyone was voting on Buccaneer to lose because of his big hands and his tendency to yell "I don't care how it works so long as I can shoot something with it!" But even he finished the task.

Eight other people weren't so lucky. And in less than a week, their numbers were almost cut in half.

Training after that became much less competitive and much more grueling. They were awoken at all hours of the night to run through drill after drill that lasted through the entire day. Olivier endured it all silently. She may have grown up rich, but she hadn't allowed herself to grow up spoiled. She knew how to work, mentally and physically.

Neil continued to follow her around, and she didn't mind so much. She wouldn't call him a friend yet, but he did make a handy subordinate. And he didn't talk so much anymore. In fact, not many of the recruits talked to (or made fun of) her anymore. She didn't know if that was because she had earned their respect, or if they were just too tired to care.

Archer was the one exception to this rule. He seemed to go out of his way to shove her, fight her, and make snide comments when he knew she was listening. The other men in his gang would laugh at his games, but it was clear that it was out of fear of Archer and not out of loathing toward Olivier.

She didn't retaliate. She wouldn't stoop to his level. She was bound and determined to defeat him within the rules of the military. And she wasn't succeeding. She was always middle of the pack when it came to drills and exercises. She was fast, but not as fast as Miles. She was strong, but not as strong as Buccaneer. She was smart, but not as smart as Neil. And she was cunning, but not as devious as Archer.

So she watched. When they ran around the yard, and later around the city, she would watch Miles and try to match his stride, his breathing. When they had free time (which was rare) she went to the gym and imitated the exercises she had seen Buccaneer performing. She spent her nights going over the notes that Neil had taken during their lessons. And she spent every other moment watching Frank Archer.

The men of the company feared him. And though she had previously believed fear and respect were the same thing, she saw in Archer's gang how mistaken she was. Those men wouldn't do anything for Archer unless he was holding a gun to their head, which he often was. But his strategy wasn't completely wrong. It was just… missing something. And she hadn't figured out what it was yet.

That day she was out in the training yard, trying to increase the power of her kicks and punches, but it just wasn't working. She punched the dummy in frustration, and it wobbled mockingly.

"Power isn't just about strength, you know," came a growl behind her.

She whipped around, fists up, and came face to face with the intimidating girth of Buccaneer.

"What the hell does that mean?" she snapped back.

He stepped closer, and she stepped back. He growled, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not Archer." She watched him warily as he came forward and turned her to face the dummy again. "Look at it. It's a person. People have weak spots. If you can find those weak spots, you can use them to triple the strength you already have. I've seen you doing my exercises at the gym," she almost blushed, "and you're not half bad. You'll never be able to do what I can do with brute force, but you can do _more_ if you know how to use the force you already have."

Buccaneer spent the next hour teaching her how to use her enemy's momentum against him; how to put the force of her shoulder and hips into a punch to magnify its strength; and how to identify the softest spots on the human body, both male and female.

And it wasn't just that one day. For a week he worked with her during free hour. They never spoke or interacted any other time during the day. But for one hour the only thing that existed was each other. And on the eighth day together she managed to flip him over her shoulder onto the ground and pin him there.

Olivier backed off quickly, expecting him to be angry. She had never beaten him before. But instead he just laughed. "I guess that means we're done."

She frowned. 'What do you mean?"

He sat up, giving her his bear-tooth grin. "The student has surpassed the master, or some crap like that. I don't have anything else to teach you. All you have to do is practice. If you keep going at the pace you're going, I don't think there's any muscle in the world that can stop you." He stood and saluted her. "It was an honor training with you, Private Armstrong."

She returned his salute and watched him as he went back inside. She had finally realized the thing that Archer was missing. The one thing that you needed, in however small amounts, in order to earn true loyalty: compassion.

**AUTHOR NOTES: Wahoo! Olivier has gained her second ally. And we got to see a softer side to Buccaneer. But what will it take to convince Miles?**

**I do have a question: how do you guys feel about chapter length? Do you like chapters around 1,000 words? Is that too long? Too short?**

**Any questions or things you'd like to see in future chapters? Please leave reviews with any questions or comments! I'd love to hear from you. This has been great fun to write. I'm really enjoying showing how Olivier BECAME the Ice Queen, rather than have her already being one. She's kind of an awesome character.**


	5. Chapter 5-- Career Change

"I'm leaving!" Neil spat the words out like they were poison on his tongue.

Olivier's head snapped up from her notes, "What did you say?"

He avoided her gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not cut out for this. We've been here nearly six months and I'm not getting any better. So… I'm going."

"Not… don't be a fool! You're going to give up everything you've worked for that?"

"Look at me, Armstrong. I'm one giant bruise. The other guys literally use me as a punching bag."

"That's no excuse. I'll tell Buccaneer that you need extra-"

Neil held up his hands, "No!" She glared at him for interrupting her and he winced, "No, _thank you_. I think bear man and I should stay as far away from each other as possible. I wouldn't make it through him using me as a punching bag."

Olivier said nothing. She just glared at him until he squirmed. "Would, uh… would you like to know where I'm going?"

Glare.

"I'm going back with the Rockbells. They're gonna teach me some things and then I'm gonna head to Rush Valley. I want to learn to become an automail mechanic."

Glare.

"Oh! I almost forgot! I made this for you." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.

She took it in her fist and continued to glare at him for a few seconds before looking down at it.

"The Last Will and Testament of Private Neil," she sneered. "Oh. So I see you already know that I'm going to kill you for this."

He rolled his eyes. "Just keep reading."

"Upon my departure from the Amestrian Military Training Base I make a documentation of my belongings: two handguns, one pillow, three books of notes on various military strategies and history, and a toolbox. All but the last I hearby bequeath…" she looked up and glared at him. "What is this?"

He sighed and took the paper from her, "All but the last I hearby bequeath to my one and only friend, Private Olivier Mira Armstrong. This document is assuring that none will challenge her on her ownership of any of these items." He grinned. "I just named you the heir of all my crap. You should be honored. And now you can just keep all the notes you 'borrowed.'"

"I put them back on your bed this morning."

"Well, it's a good thing we sleep in the same barracks. I'd hate to have to mail those back to you."

Her lips twitched in something that wasn't a smile, but wasn't quite a sneer either. "When do you leave?"

"Two days. I actually have to meet with Urey in about two minutes."

"You intentionally told me about this right before your meeting so you could escape, didn't you."

He grinned. "Can't fool you." His smile slowly faded as he looked at her.

She sighed. "Dismissed."

Neil shot to his feet and saluted, "Sir, yes, sir!" He turned and walked out the door.

"Neil," Olivier stopped him just before he left. He turned back, looking confused.

"You'd better be a damn good mechanic."

**Author Notes: This was an intentionally short chapter that is equally intentionally not time-specific. It merely takes place after the previous chapter. It's meant to show how Olivier's feelings have changed toward Neil, and how he really does already consider her his superior officer. It's also setting up for a really important future plot point. (If you know who Neil is, you can probably guess what the plot-point is). The next two chapters (if things go according to plan) should be where things really start to take off. The blood will start to fly.**


	6. Chapter 6-- Flying

"Keep your chin tucked in. Your throat is begging to be cut," Olivier walked around the training ground, hands behind her back. Buccaneer was on the other side of the yard doing the same. Ever since their training sessions had ended, most of the other recruits had asked to be trained the same way. In fact, only three people hadn't: Miles, Archer, and Archer's main goon Darius.

"Were you born stupid, or do you want me to rip out your tongue?" Buccaneer's booming voice echoed across the yard and Olivier rolled her eyes. He had very little patience for teaching, and she was glad the hour was almost over. Any longer and he might start coming through on his threats.

"Buccaneer!" she barked, "Wrap it up. Time's up."

For an instant his angry eyes fixed on her, but then the emotion faded and he nodded. "All right you louts, grab your gear and get inside. Don't make me repeat myself!" Buccaneer made his way over to Olivier and stood at her side.

"I don't understand it. They act like I'm asking them to fly when it only took you a week, and you're a-"

Her icy eyes stopped him from ending that sentence.

"I mean… never mind." He walked past her and into the barracks, touching her elbow lightly as he passed.

Her brow furrowed as she watched his back. He had been doing that a lot lately, finding reasons to touch her like that. She wasn't sure what it meant. And she wasn't sure that she liked it. It made her feel… out of control.

"Shake it off, Armstrong," she muttered, and followed him into the mess hall.

Olivier and Buccaneer may have spent a lot of time with the other recruits during training, but it was during meals that the lines were clearly drawn. Archer and his gang sat at one table, Olivier and Buccaneer sat at their own, Miles sat alone, and everyone else sat closest to whomever they felt the most loyalty toward. Olivier had noted, with more than a little smugness, that her side of the room had been more crowded than Archer's lately.

Today Olivier was watching Miles. This was something she did a few times a week. And always he would look back. It would become a challenge to see who would look away first. So far she hadn't lost.

"Tell me, Buccaneer," she said after Miles had looked away. "You used to sit with him before you sat with me. Who is he? What is he like?"

"Dhunno," Buccaneer mumbled around a mouthful of bread. "Never talked to the guy. Sitting with him was just safer than sitting with Archer, and less insulting than sitting with you."

She glared at him through her hair, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"But does no one know anything about him? There are so few Ishvalans in the army. You'd think there'd at least be gossip."

"And since when do you listen to gossip?"

"Since the gossip finally stopped being about me."

He grinned. "Oh, there's still plenty of gossip about you." He leaned in close so that she could feel his breath on her cheek, "And none of it does you justice."

She cleared her throat and stood quickly. "Watching those idiots train has made me restless. I'm going for a run."

He stood as well, "How about a match? That'll get your blood pumping just as well, won't it?"

She hesitated. The very idea of fighting him, _touching _him, was getting her blood pumping more than she wanted to admit. "After seeing you in such a foul mood this afternoon? No thanks. Take the night to cool off. We'll fight tomorrow."

"All right," He growled, but she could see he was disappointed. Still she turned, and this time it was his turn to watch her back as she walked away.

* * *

Winter was fast approaching, and the cold air bit into her lungs as she ran around the outer walls of the compound. She didn't mind the cold. In fact, she loved it. It made her feel sharper, more alive.

She rounded the southeast corner and ran along the wall that paralleled the forest. No one ventured in there, and certainly not at night, but she thought she saw a glint at the edge of the wood. She slowed her pace, automatically shifting into a defensive stance as she moved closer to the source of the light. She knelt and brushed aside some dead leaves to reveal a knife. She picked it up and saw that hadn't been there long. There were no signs of rust or wear. In fact, it looked brand new. Almost as if-

Something solid pressed against her back and she fell forward. She turned that momentum into a roll and crouched to face her opponent.

"There, Darius," Archer's slimy voice crawled into her ears. "Never let it be said that I fought an unarmed opponent." He stepped out of the trees and into the moonlight. His evil smile almost seemed luminescent in the dark.

"What do you want, Archer?" Olivier demanded, adjusting her grip on the knife.

His laugh almost seemed metallic. "Isn't that obvious? In two months we graduate from the academy. That means everyone left standing will become an official member of the Amestrian army. Do you think I would let my country's name be soiled by allowing someone like you into the ranks?"

"You're deluded," she spat.

He shrugged as if he already knew and didn't care. "Whatever makes you happy, princess." Without any other warning he lunged at her.

She dodged out of the way, her knife still up, but he was too fast. His own blade tore her sleeve and left a shallow cut. _Damn,_ she thought, _he's too fast._ She continued to dodge his assaults, but just barely. By the time she realized what he was doing she was covered in tiny cuts, but it was too dark to see them. _He's forced me into the trees! Dammit, Olivier. You're smarter than this!_

That same, robotic laugh seemed to echo around her. She spun, trying to figure out where he had gone, but she couldn't locate the sound. Buccaneer's training may have made her stronger and smarter, but none of it did her any good if she couldn't see or catch hold of her opponent. She tried to move back toward the compound and the moonlight, but as soon as she took a step he was in her path. "Oh no you don't." He lunged at her again, and she could see that she wasn't going to be able to get her knife up in time. She twisted her blade in her grip. If she couldn't stop his thrust, she could at least take him down with her.

A streak of light burned her eyes and her knife met empty air. She blinked away the trails left on her retinas and saw Miles sparring with Archer, a lantern tied to his belt. Archer laughed as their two blades locked. "Oh, two on one. That's not very fair is it? Darius!"

The big man came charging through the trees toward Olivier. Miles fell back and pressed his back against Olivier's. Together they spun, watching their opponents. And what happened next… Olivier could only describe as magic.

It was if she had four eyes, four arms, two hearts. She and Miles moved as one. Her sharp eyes saw the openings, and his quick movements took advantage of them. They never spoke a word, but they always knew exactly how the other would react. Olivier felt as though she was flying. It was harmony. It was perfection. And it was broken by the booming roar of a raging bear.

The sound broke Archer's concentration, but that sound had become too familiar to Olivier to surprise her any longer. She took advantage of his confusion and landed a solid punch to Archer's nose, feeling the bones crack under her knuckles. She swept his legs out from under him just as Darius lifted her off the ground, but she wasn't airborne for long. Buccaneer's massive hand connected with Darius' shoulder, and he dropped Olivier as quickly as he had picked her up.

Miles had disappeared. Olivier knew that not because she couldn't see him, but because it _felt_ different. As the fight continued she no longer felt like flying, she felt like a stone: solid, unbreakable, strong. She didn't need finesse while fighting with Buccaneer because she had _power_. Now she felt the emotion behind each of her blows. Each time she heard Buccaneer or Darius land a blow, she added more power to her own against Archer. How _dare_ he? How _dare_ he have the gall to challenge her like this? She would make him pay. She would make him suffer every day of his miserable life for thinking she was weak.

Now it was Archer who was on the defensive. She forced him back, back, back into the light. She had lost the knife somewhere, but she didn't need it. Her fists met his face, his stomach. Her kicks hit him everywhere it hurt. She was rage. She was numb. She was ice.

Archer's back was against the compound wall. He couldn't run anymore. She raised her fist to deliver the blow to his nose that she _knew_ would send the broken shards of bone into his brain. She would kill him. As she brought her fist forward a strong hand grabbed her elbow. She didn't think, she just reacted. Her attack fell on this new opponent and blow after blow landed. He wasn't fighting back. Why wasn't he fighting back?

"Olivier!" Buccaneer cried, grabbing her wrists.

Her chest heaved as she fought against his grip. She couldn't see him. She couldn't see Darius running with a half-dead Archer back toward the entrance. She couldn't hear. All she felt was ice. Rage. And then… a kiss.

Buccaneer released her hands and cradled her head with them as he deepened the kiss. His grip was gentle, as if he thought she would try to pull away and he didn't want to hurt her.

But she didn't pull away. Suddenly there was a new path that all her rage and emotion could follow. And maybe if she didn't think, maybe if she followed it fast enough, she could feel like she was flying again.

So she pulled him closer and kissed him back. And even after they both sank to the ground, exhausted and injured beyond the limits their bodies could endure any longer, she didn't let him go.

**AUTHOR NOTES: Phew! This chapter was fun to write. It was nice to finally introduce some of the conflict/romance. I know what I want to happen next, but I'm not sure if there needs to be more character development in between now and then. What do you guys think? How do you feel about Olivier's relationships with Buccaneer/Miles/Archer? Are they well developed enough to start throwing them into some challenges? I think after I really have the character relationships nailed down I'll start to write things a little more episodically. It'll be more about specific adventures/challenges they've had over the years, with a character-based story line to tie it all together. Does that make sense? Sound good? It's not set in stone yet.**


	7. Interlude

He felt responsible. It was because she was watching him that she didn't notice _he_ was watching _her._ The snake. And so when Archer followed her out into the night, he had to follow them. He didn't have a choice. And when he attacked her, he had to intervene. She was too slow. Too slow! But fighting with her… that hadn't been slow. That had been… unnerving.

Miles shook his head and focused back on the task at hand. But even though his eyes saw the disassembled rifle in front of him; even though his ears heard his sergeant yelling at him to hurry up; his mind kept drifting up to the infirmary, and the unnerving girl who lay unconscious in one of the beds.

* * *

He had carried her back inside. When she sun woke him he was sure she was dead. Cold, stillness, blood. They all meant death to him. But she had warmed in his arms. And she had been soft. She was so much softer than he had expected. Looking at her soft, broken body in her arms it felt… wrong. This wasn't the woman he knew. This was wrong.

Their commanding officer said that Buccaneer could stay by her bedside until she awoke. But why would he do that? She would wake or not, and him being there wouldn't change that. Olivier wouldn't want him to sit and wait. She would call him weak. So instead he trained. He punched away the image of her broken body. Drilled away the idea of her being weak. And ran away from the idea of her being human enough to die. And it worked. He was Buccaneer. He couldn't love weakness.

* * *

He would kill her. He swore under everything he knew to be true that he would remove her stain from this world. She hadn't defeated him; it was Miles and Buccaneer who had done that. As much as he hated them, he freely admitted that they were worthy opponents. She was weak, and arrogant. And he had a rule that had to always be obeyed: arrogant girls must be punished.

Archer could just see Olivier across the room through the slit of his swollen eye. Now wasn't the time to strike, but it would come. And when it did… killing her wouldn't be enough. No. He would _destroy_ her.

He try didn't hold back his laughter.

* * *

When her eyes opened, three men saw three different things. One saw something he just couldn't explain. One saw the determination and power that he loved. And one saw a future where those eyes shed tears of blood.

When her eyes opened, Olivier saw only one thing: rage. Never again would she be the weakest. Never again would she be soft. Never again would she be broken. From now on she would be ice. From now on she would be queen.

**Author's Notes: So... this is really short, and I'm calling it an "interlude" instead of a chapter because I was frustrated with writers block just wanted to write SOMETHING. I wanted to write something from one of the men's points of view, but it wasn't coming easy to me so I tried to write three little snippets from each. I'm not sure if I love the results, but the interlude did what I needed it to do: it shows the turning point for Olivier. She's not going to be weak anymore. From here on out we'll really see how she becomes the bad-A Olivier that we all know. And THAT I am excited to write about.**


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